


Infrared

by Enmuse (Scifiroots)



Series: Crimson and Gold [3]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Creepy, Dark, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-05
Updated: 2010-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifiroots/pseuds/Enmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Based on canon through S2 finale only.) It had been interesting to see Kristina work, so when she called him out directly with her performance on television, John decided to answer. <i>Recent Edit</i>: Jan. 18, 2014</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infrared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cedara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cedara/gifts).



> Written for [octoberwriting](http://community.livejournal.com/octoberwriting/profile).  
> Thanks to Cedara for the prompt of writing from RJ's point of view

Over the years he had taken on a number disciples. His latest addition had several unique traits, some of which would have made her a better candidate as a target rather than ally. Had Ms. Frye not spent "quality" time with Patrick Jane, John would have killed her outright. When it came to his personal project, however, he was willing to bend his rules to take advantage of new opportunities. 

This had paid off.

While Ms. Frye bordered on insufferable with her claims of true psychic talent, there was an element of ruthlessness that he admired. She had been searching for him since her first encounter with Patrick, something he'd dismissed at first, eventually found annoying, and then became intrigued despite himself. John watched her draw close again, insinuate herself into Patrick's life. It had been interesting to see her work, so when she called him out directly with her performance on television, John decided to answer.

Her expression bordered on arrogant when they first met. He had waited for her to speak, intrigued what her approach would be, whether she would actually make her case to "rehabilitate" him. Ms Frye waited a full two minutes before formally introducing herself. She said nothing about John's mask or his hooded, nondescript dress. She refused to flinch under his steady stare. A relentless woman, as he had gathered prior their meeting. And cold.

It had amused John to recall the scenes he'd observed between Patrick and Frye. He had yet to ask her if she'd been sincere in her attempts to flirt with the blond. Frankly he found it hilarious to imagine the two together. Patrick was passionate and, true, his hate for John lent the potential for deliberate cruelty, but the man was not calculatingly ruthless. Kristina Frye, on the other hand, was a woman who could absolve herself of any guilt for her part in another person's death. She refused to be cowed. _She_ was interested in what John had to offer.

It presented a unique opportunity that John had not previously considered. In his sights, Patrick, and at his side, an almost mirrored version of the man. Not a woman at his beck and call, no doubt Ms. Frye would always retain an element of independence. Even so, John had no doubts that she would bend. And if she broke? Well, it was of little concern. She had already started to regale him with interesting tales from the inside. It had been John's intention to step away with Ms. Frye and observe Patrick from afar. Yet a particular revelation of hers caught his attention, and he needed to see for himself if it were true. 

After, he could decide what to do with her.

\--- 

John saw to the surveillance arrangements himself prior his trip to the old hotel. It wasn't difficult to determine where to set-up. Patrick would not have let anyone into his home, so that left the apartment of Agent Kimball Cho. John felt confident that if the two were indeed involved, as Frye claimed, that the agent would insist on keeping his lover company after the stressful investigation.

He listened and watched.

\---

Keys rattled against the wood of the front door before admitting two pairs of footsteps. The door thudded shut and someone twisted the deadbolt and secured the chain.

"You hungry?" Agent Cho asked. No answer. After a few moments: "Okay." 

Footsteps crossed the apartment, for a moment the sound caught on two microphones. Then the bedroom door creaked and John turned to the thermal scanner. A bright, multicolored figure crossed the screen while the second person stood at the edge in the doorway.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing." In contrast to the agent's calm inquiry, Patrick's response was harsh.

The agent sighed and stepped further into the room. "Jane."

The thermal monitor showed a blur of colors as Patrick turned sharply.

"What will you do?"

"What?"

Patrick lifted his arms in a futile gesture. "Next time. If... if she tells him..."

Agent Cho closed the gap between them. The thermal colors bled together into a single amorphous figure.

"You think she knows?"

"She's too good not to."

"We don't have control over that."

When Patrick next spoke, his voice had lowered, "He'll come."

"We know that. You know, we _do_ listen to you when you're not talking like an idiot."

For a moment the monitor was able to define two shapes again. "Lisbon wanted me to shut up."

"She doesn't want you to drive yourself crazy."

Patrick chuckled darkly. "Who's to say I'm not?"

"If it's crazy to want to protect people you care about, what the hell does that say about the law enforcement profession?"

"Well if you're going to categorize me with that ilk—"

Long minutes passed and the colors again shifted across the monitor as bodies and limbs moved to the soundtrack of rustling fabric and wordless vocalizations. Cho and Patrick parted momentarily as they fell into bed.

"You're not crazy," the agent murmured.

"Shut up," Patrick muttered.

They switched positions, tumbling across the bed, tracing rainbow-like paths across the monitor.

"I'm not running."

Harsh breathing. "Shut up. I can't..."

"I know..." 

The forms shifted again but within moments it became obvious they had moved to the main event. Limbs tangled in and the rhythmic pattern of overheated bodies made clear their actions.

Patrick's voice interrupted the quiet gasps of pleasure. "I can't," it sounded like something had finally broken. "Oh God, I can't, I can't..." the mantra became muffled.

Even so, their rhythm didn't falter. Cho said, "I know. Shh..."

"I c-can't—"

"I'm not leaving."

Their words broke off and their pace picked up, became irregular and desperate. Patrick came with a strangled cry, Agent Cho's was voice mostly covered so that all that could be heard was him speaking his lover's name.

Before they had fully recovered their breath, Patrick confessed, "I can't do it again."

Cho's answer was full of suppressed emotion, "I know."

\--- 

John retrieved the unobtrusive equipment the following day. Everything fit into a tiny pouch he could slide into his jacket. Before he left, he deposited one of the small, button-like mics between the pages of Agent Cho's paperback on the bedside table.

\--- 

Kristina Frye glanced over her shoulder when the door opened. John looked her over, quietly impressed by her relaxed posture and calm expression.

She tipped her head in greeting. "You have satisfied the truth of my claim?"

John waited until he was sitting across the card table from her to answer. "An intriguing combination."

Ms. Frye sipped from her teacup. "Logic, no doubt, implies a match between Agent Lisbon and Patrick. Their connection, however, never felt the same." She smiled at his silence, correctly reading his skepticism. "You will believe when you are ready. I'm used to the disbelief." Something dark flashed in her eyes and John felt a smile of his own stretch his lips.

"Ready to go, Ms. Frye?"

She shifted her leg from under the table to lift her foot. She stared him straight in the eye as she said, "Whenever you are ready, John."

He retrieved the key for the leg shackle from his pocket and unlocked the chain. He held onto her foot for a few moments longer, inspecting the skin for signs of strain. Nothing. As he had come in, he'd made an inventory of the few items had had provided for her solo stay. Everything in place. 

\---

>   
> Dear mister Cho,  
> I heard you requested a sweep of your apartment. I'm impressed you managed to do so quietly. Or have you told Patrick behind closed doors?  
> If you decide to share this letter, you can tell mister Jane that miss Frye sends her regards. She is of the interesting notion that I am in need of rehabilitation. It's quite amusing and her methods... unorthodox. I'm sure you would like to thank her for introducing us, I'll see what we can arrange.  
> 


End file.
